


Climb

by ShyVioletCat



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, F/M, starts with Feylin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22209889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyVioletCat/pseuds/ShyVioletCat
Summary: Feyre Archeron finds herself in a toxic relationship with her fiance after a car accident that almost kills them both. Tamlin loves her. Maybe he loves her too much.
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Feyre Archeron/Tamlin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter does include depictions of domestic violence. Reader discretion advised.

Things hadn’t been right between Feyre and Tamlin for a while now. They were barely speaking and when they did they either fought or just progressed into a sullen silence because neither could get what they wanted from the other. Tamlin blamed it on work, he had too much to do and he was stressed. Feyre said he’d changed changed since the accident. Whatever the reason, those walls had steadily been built. 

At least that’s what Tamlin called it. An Accident.   
  
Feyre knew the car crash hadn’t been an accident. Amarantha, Tamlin’s ex, had hit them on purpose. Sent her and Tamlin off the bridge in their car and into the river below. Feyre still had nightmares about what happened that night. She woke up drenched in sweat and shaking after dreaming about being trapped in that car in the icy waters, sinking lower and lower, her lungs getting tighter and tighter. Almost as harrowing as the actual events.  
  
Since that night Tamlin’s impulses to protect her had gone into overdrive. Feyre went almost nowhere unaccompanied, either Tamlin or his friend and employee Lucien went with her. Of late it had been Lucien more than it had been Tamlin. Work was taking up more time of his, so they had been seeing less of each other, which was only adding to the strain on their relationship. Tamlin’s solution was that Feyre work less and he had talked her into taking less shifts at the small boutique she worked at. Then to add to this she hadn’t seen her sisters in months. Feyre did all this for all the reasons Tamlin insisted on.  
  
_“You’re still recovering, you should work less.”  
  
“Seeing your sisters is too stressful for you.”  
  
“That doesn’t fit with my plans, we’ll arrange it for another time.”  
  
“I work to support us, you don’t even need to have a job.”  
  
“My work is too important. I can’t change it just for you.”_  
  
Feyre had felt herself switching off from the world, almost entirely. She went through the motions but she had lost that joy, that spark, the urge to do something more. Why bother? Tamlin was right in many ways. He made more than enough to support them, surely this controlling phase was only a temporary thing, Tamlin was everything she wanted and needed. Feyre often reminded herself that he was still healing too, he had experienced the same trauma. This was his way of dealing with it.  
  
But that stubborn, defiant part of Feyre still held onto her job. Mainly because it allowed her to see her best friend who owned it. Morrigan was a bit of brightness in her life she wasn’t ready to let go of. They had met at art school where Feyre was studying fine arts and Mor was studying fashion design. The had met in a sketching class Mor was taking to improve her fashion sketching skills. That very first day Mor had forgotten her pencils and had very kindly begged Feyre for one. It was that introduction that led to coffee dates, lunch dates, studying at Mor’s apartment and the best friendship Feyre had had in her life. When Mor had opened her boutique Feyre was the first person she asked to work with her. Feyre insisted she was entirely wrong for the job as she definitely was not a people person. But Mor insisted, saying that there was no one else she would rather work with. 

That’s where she was on her way to now, being driven once again by Lucien. Feyre would have driven herself except for the fact that she didn’t have her licence. That was another thing Tamlin didn’t see the point in her having. Why did she need a licence when Lucien could just drive her anywhere she wanted?  
  
Lucien pulled over in front of the boutique.  
  
“Thanks,” Feyre said grabbing her purse from the back seat.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Lucien replied. “I’ll pick you up at 5:30?”  
  
Feyre just nodded and got out of the car and headed for the door. As she reached it she took a deep breath just to ready herself a little more.  
  
“Good morning!” Mor sung from the register, a bright happy smile on her face. Which fell when Feyre’s came into view. “Sweetie, you look terrible.”  
  
“Thanks,” Feyre said, but it had no bite.  
  
“No, but really. Are you okay?” Mor followed Feyre into the back where she dropped her bag on the counter of their kitchenette area.  
  
“Yeah, me and Tam had a fight this morning.”  
  
It wasn’t the first time Feyre had used that excuse, and she sure it was not the last. Mor’s lips pursed like she was trying real hard not to say something. Feyre wasn’t in the mood to hear what it was so she deflected away from the subject.  
  
“Did that new stock come in? Want me to set it up?” Feyre asked.  
  
Mor, it seemed, was not giving up and she asked quietly, “Feyre, has he hurt you?”  
  
Feyre blanched. Tamlin hadn’t been violent… well not to her. He’d thrown things, usually things that smashed, and punched a wall a few times, but never had he touched her.  
  
“No he hasn’t,” Feyre said but Mor didn’t look convinced. “Truly, Mor. He’s not like that.”  
  
“Okay, I believe you. But if he was you can tell me. Please tell me.”  
  
Mor pulled Feyre into a quick hug.  
  
“I’ll go start unpacking the new stock,” Feyre said as she disentangled herself and set off to work.  
  
~  
  
It was 5:35 when Rhysand wandered up to his cousin’s boutique store. He spotted Lucien in his usual spot out the front and Rhys gave him a two finger salute, which Lucien pointedly ignored. Rhys just laughed and kept walking.  
  
Just as he was about to open the door it swung out and almost hit him in the face.  
  
“Sorry,” Feyre said, hurriedly apologising. But her face fell a bit once she realised who she’d almost hit with the door. “Oh, hi Rhys.”  
  
“Hello Feyre, darling,” Rhys said cheerily watching as the scowl spread across Feyre’s face, the on that appeared whenever Rhys used his pet name for her.  
  
“Goodbye, Rhysand,” was her reply and she was off into the awaiting car before Rhys could say anything more. But he waited and waved Feyre off as she drove away, she didn’t return it.  
  
When she was out of sight Rhys went inside.  
  
“I’m waiting for the day she knees you in the balls. I really hope I’m there to see it,” Mor said as Rhys came in. “Lock the door?”  
  
Rhys did as she asked. “Why would you wish such a thing on me?”  
  
“Because it would be funny,” Mor said simply, not taking her eyes off the computer screen at the register.  
  
Rhys came up to where Mor worked away and lent his elbows on the counter. “She looks terrible. I think she’s lost even more weight since the last time I saw her. Is she alright?”  
  
“I ask her and she says yes,” Mor said while she clicked. “Tamlin isn’t good for her. And I can’t believe Lucien just goes along with it.”  
  
“Lucien is probably just as trapped as she is,” Rhys mused.  
  
Mor shut down the computer, her face no longer illuminated but the screen. “Feyre asked me to cut her shifts down again.”  
  
Rhys let out a low curse.  
  
“I managed to cut it down to just a half day. The more she’s out of that house, the better,” Mor said. “Come on, where are you taking me for dinner?”  
  
~  
  
“Did you talk to your boss about cutting down your hours?” Tamlin asked as casually as he could but Feyre could hear the tenseness in his voice.  
  
“Mor, my friend, was very accommodating,” Feyre said letting the bite come through in her voice. She saw Tamlin visibly bristle.  
  
“So just two days a week?” He said just before he took a bite.  
  
“Two and a half,” Feyre replied, shifting the food around her plate.  
  
“I thought we’d agreed on two.”  
  
Feyre put down her fork. “You decided on two. Mor and I compromised on two and a half because she needs my help, and I’m her employee and friend.”  
  
“I need Lucien free another full day. Not half a day.” Tamlin snapped back.  
  
“Well Mor needs me. I certainly don’t need Lucien to chauffeur me around,” Feyre snapped right back at him.  
  
“You don’t need that job,” anger laced each one of Tamlin’s words. Feyre knew that the rein on his temper was slackening.  
  
“But I want it,” Feyre said, her voice raising a little in response to his.  
  
“This isn’t about what you want Feyre!” Tamlin yelled, and slammed his fists on the table making a Feyre jump. “This is about what I need. I need Lucien back at work, preferably full time. But because you have this stupid fixation on this job you don’t need I’m down one man half the week. I support us, I give you everything you could ever want and you can’t give up this one thing for me?”  
  
“You can’t have everything your way all the time. I’ve had enough of this,” Feyre said as she stood the leave the table. But Tamlin grabbed her forearm before she could even make it more than half a step  
  
“This discussion isn’t over,” Tamlin hissed back fiercely.  
  
“Lucien doesn’t…” Feyre started, her temper rising, but Tamlin slammed his free hand down on the table cutting of what she was about to say. Feyre jumped but didn’t go far as Tamlin still held her arm in a vice like grip. It was tight enough that it hurt which made Feyre look at it. Her arm was so small compared to his hand, like Tamlin could easily snap it like a brittle stick. That fire in Feyre guttered out and she said quietly, “Tam, you’re hurting me.”  
  
He immediately let go and sat back down in his chair, Feyre did likewise. There was a look of guilt on Tamlin’s face, his remorse evident.  
  
“I won’t,” Tamlin yelled but then he dropped his voice, “I won’t leave you unprotected. She… she could still have people out there who want to hurt you. Hurt us.”  
  
Feyre leaned her head back. It was the same argument they’d had a thousand times. This was always the point where they came to a stand still. Where Tamlin made it about his love for her, his need to make sure she was safe overrode everything. How was Feyre supposed to question that?  
  
He reached out his hand palm up, the same hand that he had slammed on the table, “Can you please ask Mor again about cutting your hours back. Please.”  
  
Feyre looked at his hand, then to Tamlin’s face. He was pleading with his eyes like a lost puppy in need of a home. Feyre was his home, and he was hers. She put her hand in his.  
  
“I’ll try.”  
  
~  
  
_She was trapped the icy water rising higher and higher. Tamlin was there, his head bleeding from the impact. The water was up to her chin now, seconds before it would be to her mouth and she’d be under. She tried to fight it, she thrashed but it only made her sink faster. She tasted the water, she screamed…_  
  
Feyre woke with a jolt, her body both hot and cold at the same time, making her feel sick. So sick she almost didn’t make it to the toilet before she vomited. When she’d finished Feyre just lay down on the bathroom floor, savouring the coolness of the tiles on her skin. It grounded her, linked her to something in the real world. Tamlin didn’t come in, he never did. He never even woke up the times she managed to stay in bed.  
  
Looking up at the small window Feyre saw that the sun was already up. Deciding that she would just get up instead of going back to bed she headed for shower. Today was her first half day for Mor and she still felt a little bad about it so she wanted to get to work a little early. On shaky legs she stood and turned the shower on. It was while she was reaching for the tap that she saw her arm. Where Tamlin had gripped her was turning purple, undeniably finger imprints. So far just a very light discolouring but Feyre knew a developing bruise when she saw one.  
  
She tried to ignore it as she showered, but her eyes kept wandering to the marks. Every time she did her gut clenched and she felt sick all over again, or maybe it was because the shower was too hot, or maybe lingering nausea from the nightmare. Whatever the reason, once Feyre was out of the shower she was vomiting again, sweating and shaking in the aftermath. She rinsed her mouth out at the sink and brushed her teeth to get rid of the acidic taste. When Feyre looked up into the steam edged mirror she barely recognised herself. Beneath her eyes was purple and she had lost much the fullness she once had in her face. Her eyes were dull and lifeless as she stared at herself. Who was this shell of a person she had become?  
  
~  
  
“Feyre, is… are things okay? I mean, do you feel okay?”  
  
Lucien’s clumsy question had Feyre subconsciously pulling down the sleeve of her sweater.  
  
“Everything is grand,” was her monotoned reply.  
  
Lucien glanced over from the drivers seat, not believing a word she’d said. She hadn’t expected him to. If anyone, it was Lucien who had the best understanding of what her life was like.  
  
“I told Tamlin that I didn’t mind driving you, and that I didn’t mind taking the few days off.” Hid voice was sympathetic.  
  
“What did he say?” Feyre asked.  
  
Lucien shook his head, “Just told me he needed me back at work and…”  
  
Lucien clamped his mouth shut.  
  
“And?” Feyre pushed. “Just tell me. I’ve probably heard it before.”  
  
Lucien let out a heavy sigh, “And that you didn’t need the job anyway, so what did it matter.”  
  
“Yep, heard that one before,” Feyre said as she looked out the window.  
  
“I think this job is a good thing. Being locked up in that house won’t do you any good.”  
  
Lucien’s voice was gentle, sincere. Which was enough to give Feyre the confidence to ask, “Why is he like this?”  
  
Lucien sighed. “He’s had… issues since what happened to his family. Then the accident, it made things so much worse for him and brought a lot of things back to the surface. He feels like he failed his family. He was too young to really have done anything to help them but he can’t get over that. Tamlin couldn’t protect his family but he can protect you. He loves you.”  
  
Sympathy roiled in her in Feyre’s gut, along with shame and anger. The only time she had seen Tamlin cry was when he’d told her about the fire that had killed everyone in his family, except for him. He’d been 17, his mother had asked him to grab some batteries for the smoke alarms on his way back from school as ones in the house needed replacing. He’d kissed her on the cheek and promised he would. But instead he had gone to a party. The fire department couldn’t determine if the alarms had gone off or not as the damage was too extensive, but because no one had managed to make it out in time they assumed the worse. Tamlin had blamed himself for the last ten years. His guilt and anger simmering inside him. Of course he’d want to protect Feyre as much as could, of course the accident would make him sensitive, how could Feyre fault him?  
  
But she was angry. Angry and how his actions had led to her being so lonely, isolated and unhappy. He’d closed her off from everyone except Mor, and even then he was trying his hardest to cut that final tie.  
  
Lucien pulled over outside the boutique.  
  
“Give him time, Feyre,” Lucien said as he stared at nothing in particular. “Give him time and he’ll be himself again.”  
  
Feyre didn’t say anything. Didn’t even nod. She just got out of the car and went inside the store.  
  
Feyre went to call a greeting to Mor but she stopped dead when saw who was casually leaning on the counter.  
  
“Good morning, Feyre,” there was a pause and Feyre rolled her eyes as she went to drop her bag in the back. Then she heard, “darling.”  
  
Feyre just walked back out and folded her arms across her chest. “Where’s Mor?”  
  
“The polite response is ‘good morning Rhys, you’re looking very handsome this morning’,” he said with a smirk.  
  
Feyre gave him a long look.  
  
Rhys pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and twirled them around his finger once, “Mor had bad cramps this morning so she asked me to open up. She said she’d be in before your shift ends though.”  
  
Feyre’s stomached dropped, as the implications of what Rhysand had said hit her. She didn’t even notice when he came to stand in front of her, dangling the keys in front of her face. He said something but she didn’t hear it. Rhys touched her arm that had fallen by her side and Feyre flinched.  
  
“What’s wrong?” There was concern on Rhys’ face as Feyre put a step of distance in between them.  
  
Feyre shook her head trying to shake away the thoughts in her head, “Sorry. What did you say?”  
  
“I asked you what’s wrong,” Rhys’ brows were furrowed now.  
  
“No before that,” Feyre said with an awkward wave of her hand.  
  
“Mor said I should give you the keys and leave the store in your very capable hands,” Rhys explained, again.  
  
Rhys offered Feyre the keys again and she took them, “Thanks.”  
  
Then she went to the register to boot up the systems but she saw Rhys already had. When she looked up Rhys was on the other side of the counter.  
  
“What?” Feyre snapped.  
  
“I know I’m not your favourite person Feyre, but regardless I still care for you…”  
  
Feyre didn’t want to hear another word out of Rhys’ mouth, she knew what the next question would be. “I. Am. Fine. Why does everyone keep asking if I’m alright?”  
  
Just for something to do fiddled with the few bits of stationary on the counter that were fine where they were.  
  
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” There was an edge in Rhys’ voice Feyre had never heard before.  
  
“Excuse me?” Feyre knew exactly what he was talking about, but still his words hurt. “I think I’ve got it from here. You can go.”  
  
Rhys looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it and kept his mouth shut and shook his head. Feyre turned to the computer screen, doing nothing, just pretending to be busy.  
  
“I gotta get to work. Have a good day Feyre.”  
  
Feyre didn’t watch Rhys go but she heard him leave, the bell jingling as he closed the door behind him. It was only then that Feyre sat down on the stool behind her, taking in deep breaths. Mor wasn’t in because she was at home with period cramps. Feyre knew that if Mor didn’t get onto the painkillers early enough her cramps would be bad. Mor was usually super prepared because Feyre always, _always_ , got her period first. Mor called Feyre her dooms day clock. When Feyre’s period came Mor would joke about prepping for her own upcoming doom.  
  
But Feyre hadn’t got her period.  
  
Her being late could mean absolutely nothing. She’d been late before, multiple times. It could be anything from her bad diet, to her lack of sleep, or her undeniable weight loss.  
  
It still didn’t stop her from asking Lucien to stop by the chemist on the way home. Mor arrived, as promised, 15 minutes before Feyre’s half day shift was supposed to end. Mor blustered in like a whirlwind, complaining about being a woman and what not. When she noticed how quiet Feyre was she stopped and enquired if Feyre was feeling okay. Feyre insisted she was but asked if she could leave a little early. Mor agreed, of course, told Feyre to call her later and kissed her cheek. Feyre nodded and left and jumped in the car.  
  
“Can we go by the chemist?” Feyre asked and she clicked in her seatbelt.  
  
Lucien checked his watch, “Does it have to be now? I’ve got to get to work as soon as I can.”  
  
“Yes,” Feyre said.  
  
“What do you need. Alis is coming tomorrow morning. Maybe she can pick it up for you.”  
  
Feyre leaned her head against the back of seat. Of course thus wasn’t going to be easy.  
  
“It’s for lady’s things, Lucien. And I need them now.”  
  
“Oh,” Lucien said with no hint of embarrassment, more like understanding. “Sure thing. I dint even want to go into work today anyway. The less time I spend there the better.”  
  
Lucien parked behind the chemist and waited in the car while Feyre went inside, asking her to grab him a chocolate bar or something. Feyre nodded and went inside.  
  
Now she was standing in the feminine products isle staring at all the boxes. Feyre had no idea what she was looking for. There were the classic sticks, but then there were strips and digital tests. Feyre rubbed at her face. She could feel herself chickening out and she was about to bolt when a voice behind her.  
  
“Can I help?”  
  
It was a kindly looking middle aged woman with a basket of stock she must be putting away. Feyre felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment.  
  
“Um, I want to buy a test,” Feyre said as she indicated weakly at the shelves.  
  
“Ah,” the woman said as she shifted the basket to sit on her hip. “Is it for you?”  
  
“No. For a friend.” Feyre didn’t know why she said that. She wiped her palm on her thigh as she felt the sweat start to build.  
  
“Ok, well,” the woman browsed the shelves for a moment, fingers wiggling, “this one is probably the best.”  
  
Feyre took the box from the woman with a quick _Thanks_. She looked down at the box, a big bubble read ‘early detection with weeks indicator’ and turned out it was a digital one too. Not risking the chance of chickening out once she actually had what she needed Feyre grabbed some pads and tampons and headed to the checkout. She blindly grabbed whatever chocolate bar was closest.  
  
“Can you put the test in the bottom of the bag?” Feyre asked.  
  
The person at the checkout nodded and Feyre pulled out her wallet from her hand bag. Feyre sighed in relief when she saw she had enough cash to pay for her things, she’d rather not have Tamlin ask questions about her purchase. If he looked at her accounts, which wouldn’t be the first time, she didn’t want him asking questions. Feyre got her change and made her way back to the car, pulling out the chocolate bar as she went. Lucien was on his phone when Feyre slipped back into the car, her heart skipped a beat.  
  
“Did you tell Tamlin where we’d stopped?”  
  
Lucien gave her a quizzical look, “No. I was just checking my expanse of social media. Should I not?”  
  
“If you could not tell him, I’d really appreciate it. Please.”  
  
“Okay… I guessed I just stopped for petrol then.”  
  
“Thanks.” Feyre ignored Lucien trying to catch her eye, trying to ask more questions. But Feyre ignored him, ignored him until he drove through the gates of Tamlin’s house, ignored him until got out of the car and walked into the quiet and still house.  
  
~  
Feyre sat on the edge of the bath just watching as the timer on her phone counted down. This test only took three minutes. The timer said 1 minute 30 seconds. She was half way. Feyre just focused on her breathing. Each breath passing another second.  
  
The alarm blared and Feyre jumped, almost falling backwards into the tub. She picked up the stick off the sink, hand shaking.  
  
_Pregnant 2-3 weeks_  
  
The test clattered as it hit the floor. Feyre just stared at it, the result conveniently facing up at her. She, apparently, was pregnant. 2-3 weeks. It made sense, sex was the only thing in their relationship that her and Tamlin excelled at. Their various other forms of communication had completely disintegrated, but their love making it was soothed both of them and connected them in more than just a physical sense. That was until the euphoria wore off and they were back exactly where they had been.  
  
Feyre grabbed the test from the floor and put it back in the box, and then back in the bag from the chemist. Then she dropped it all on the floor and kicked it under the bed before she climbed into it. She didn’t move and just waited for the darkness and oblivion to take her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: depictions of domestic violence.

The clock on Feyre’s bedside table beeped waking her from her her dark, inky sleep and she squinted over at it. She ignored it and pulled the blanket tighter as it took her moment for her thoughts to catch up with her. About what she had hidden under the bed. That just made Feyre curl in on herself further. But then she remembered it was a work day, which was good, it would be a distraction. She didn’t want to think about anything today. 

Feyre went into the bathroom and found her phone where she’d left it on the edge of the bath. She unlocked it and saw a text from Tamlin.  
  
 _Didn’t want to wake you. I won’t be home until late tonight but I have some time before the event tomorrow morning. I’ll see you then. I love you._  
  
Feyre just sent back an _I love you too_ basically on autopilot. She’d forgotten about the annual ostentatious garden party Tamlin’s company held this time every year. It was when old clients met new clients and people paid far too much for the food and alcohol. Well, that gave her something else to distract her.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Feyre couldn’t pin point exactly why she felt nauseous. She was in denial about it being morning sickness, she was in denial about being pregnant. She wouldn’t believe it until she’d have it confirmed by a doctor. Even though she’d taken the other pregnancy test this morning and it had given her the same result as yesterday. The nausea could be because she hadn’t eaten a proper breakfast this morning. Feyre had grabbed an apple and eaten half of it in the car and then threw out the rest in the bin on the street. Maybe it was just anxiety over, well, everything.  
  
A burst of laughter broke Feyre’s thoughts as she folded a pile of pants. It was just Mor, but the sound of it made Feyre grit her teeth because of who Mor was laughing at. Rhys was here again and Feyre wasn’t sure she could bear it. 

They’d once been on friendlier terms, almost friends even. But then Tamlin had expressed his disapproval of it and when Feyre had told Rhys he’d laughed at her and called Tamlin huge misogynistic tool and implied that Feyre should stand up to him. That raised Feyre’s hackles and she said it was fair enough for Tamlin to ask this one little thing from her, especially when it came to her relationship. But he’d laughed bitterly and said he thought she was better than that and that it was on Tamlin for not trusting her. Feyre hadn’t argued further just stormed out of the restaurant. From then on she’d disliked him. Immensely. Even after he’d apologised. Many, many times.  
  
She heard him go into the back so Feyre chose that moment approach Mor at the counter for her next task. 

“These shirts up there?” Feyre asked putting her hand on a pile of shirts that sat on the counter.  
  
“Feyre, you busy bee,” Mor said as she helped drape them over Feyre’s arm.  
  
Feyre just gave her a small smile and took the shirts. One by one she started hanging them up, having to reach up a little each time to put them where they needed to be. She didn’t notice her sleeve had slipped down until she heard Mor let out a low and vicious curse. Then she was there beside Feyre taking the unhung shirts from her and taking Feyre’s other hand in hers.  
  
“What the hell happened!?” Mor hissed.  
  
Mor was looking at the bruises on Feyre’s forearm. They were undeniably made from a large hand. Feyre swallowed, her throat getting tight.  
  
“I… um…” Feyre couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t think of what to say.  
  
“Mor?” Rhys must of heard her swear. “Is everything ok?”  
  
Mor moved in front of Feyre blocking her arm from Rhys’ view, knowing the last thing Feyre would want was for Rhys to see.  
  
“Yeah, it’s fine. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Mor said.  
  
“No, I have today off. You know…” Rhys started to explain.  
  
“Rhys.” Mor’s voice was sharp as she cut him off.  
  
Rhys got the hint. “Yes I do. I’ll see you lovely ladies later.”  
  
The bell chimed as Rhys left. Feyre could feel her eyes filling with tears.  
  
“He didn’t mean to,” she said quietly.  
  
Mor shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
Feyre took in a shuddering breath, “Because Tamlin, he just got a bit worked up. We were arguing and I went to leave and he stopped me. He didn’t mean to grab me so hard. He let go when I told him he was hurting me.”  
  
“He shouldn’t have put his hands on you like that in the first place,” Mor said as she examined the bruises a little closer. “I asked you, just the other day if he was hurting you. Why did you lie to me?”  
  
“He hadn’t hurt me. Not yet.” Feyre took her arm out of Mor’s grasp and folded her arms across her chest. “Tamlin loves me, Mor. He’s just got a lot to deal with. And he’s still struggling with what happened with the accident. It was one time. That’s all.”  
  
Mor pinched the bridge of her nose, Feyre could see that her friend was holding in her anger. “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to Feyre. But you say one word, one word, at ant time and I’ll be there.”  
  
“It won’t happen again,” was all Feyre said.  
  
Mor just gathered her in a hug and kissed the side of Feyre’s head. It was that that broke Feyre. First it was just silent tears that streamed from her eyes, but then those silent tears built to heaving sobs. Mor held her through it all of it, a solid force when everything about Feyre was falling apart.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Alis, the housekeeper, had made a pork roast and it was well underway when Feyre walked through the doors, Lucien in tow. They could smell the aroma of the cooking meat wafting through the house.  
  
“Mmm, that smells delicious,” Lucien murmured as he closed the door behind them.  
  
Feyre took a deep breath in through her nose. Pork roast was her favourite of hers, but as she took that breath in and the scent hit her nose she had to fight a gag.  
  
“Mmm-hmm,” Feyre said as she held her breath. “I’m going upstairs to change.”  
  
Lucien was shedding his jacket and nodded while Feyre headed for the stairs. The smelled followed her and she tried not to breath through her nose. Feyre slammed the door behind her and threw herself onto the bed, breathing in the scent on the sheets, drowning out the pork. She didn’t know how long she laid there when she heard a knock.  
  
“Who is it?” Feyre asked, her voice muffled as she was still face down on the bed.  
  
“It’s Alis, dear.” Came the voice behind the door.  
  
“Come in,” Feyre said as she sat up.  
  
Alis came in, still wearing her kitchen apron. “Are you alright?”  
  
After her talk with Mor Feyre’s emotions were still bubbling near the surface and it was that simple question that opened the flood gates again. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears.  
  
“No, not really.” Feyre’s voice broke as she spoke.  
  
Alis sat on the corner of the bed. “I cleaned your room today. There was a package, of sorts, under the bed.”  
  
“Did you look?” Feyre asked, her voice thick with tears.  
  
“No, it’s not my business. I apologise for finding them in the first place,” Alis said.

“You were just doing your job, I was the one who chucked them on the floor.” Both Feyre and Alis were silent for a few moments, Feyre who spoke again. “They were positive.”  
  
Feyre didn’t see Alis’ reaction, she was just staring at her hands in her lap.  
  
“Does Tamlin know?” Alis asked quietly.  
  
“No. You’re the first person I’ve told actually.” Feyre sniffed.  
  
“How far along?” Alis asked and she sat down on the edge of the bed.  
  
“2 to 3 weeks. Just what the test told me. I haven’t been to the doctor or anything.”  
  
Again there was a silence between them.  
  
“Are you… Are you happy?” Alis asked again.  
  
The question hit Feyre like a bullet to the chest. She weighed the question, weighed her feelings.  
  
“I don’t know. I don’t feel anything anymore, really.”  
  
Alis reached out and took Feyre’s hand. She had always been kind to Feyre, not like a mother figure at all, but at least a friend. She’d helped Feyre navigate moving in and the ins and outs of what how things were in Tamlin’s world. Before Feyre had found Tamlin she hadn’t been one for dressing up, or make up, or even doing her hair beyond a ponytail or a basic plait. Alis had helped with all of it, and made sure that Feyre kept her true self through all of it. But that self had slowly been lost lately. Since the accident and Tamlin had hired a new PR representative who had taken it upon herself to improve Feyre’s image.  
  
Alis patted Feyre’s hand a few times, “If you’d like, I can bring you up a sandwich?”  
  
Feyre just nodded. Alis gave Feyre a small, but sad, smile and left. Once Alis had left Feyre got up and stripped out of her work clothes then slipped on a single silk nightie and a dressing robe. Then went into the bathroom to wash her face, the cool water was refreshing after the heat of her tears. As she patted her face with the pink facecloth she saw herself in the mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, her face had lost so much of its fullness, her hair limp and lifeless. She was a mess.  
  
By the time Feyre had finished in the bathroom Alis had been back and left a sandwich and a glass of water on the bedside table. Feyre only ate half of it before gave into that ever present exhaustion and went to sleep.  
  
~~~~~  
  
“Feyre?” 

It was a shrill female voice that called to Feyre from beyond the bedroom door and woke her from her sleep. It was followed by a sharp rapping knock.  
  
“Are you up? If not it’s time to get up.” It was Ianthe. She must have been summoned to help Feyre get ready for the garden party. “I’ll be back in 15. Have a shower”  
  
Feyre groaned and threw of the blanket. There would be no point delaying the inevitable, so Feyre got up and showered. When she got out she put on the dress Ianthe had picked out for her months and months ago for the event. She zipped it up, flicking her damp hair out of the back of it then turned around to the full length mirror in her walk in wardrobe.  
  
“Oh dear.”  
  
Feyre jumped at the voice behind her.  
  
“Oh. Hello Ianthe,” Feyre said as she started to take in her own appearance in the mirror. The dress was meant to be form fitting with it tight bodice and pencil skirt, but it definitely wasn’t now. The short cap sleeves also left the bruises on her forearm on stark display.  
  
Ianthe came up behind Feyre and pulled at the dress, trying to even out the mess that it was. They were so different, the two of them. She looked as though she was made by the gods to be Tamlin’s partner. They looked like a perfectly matched pair with her radiant blonde hair and fuller figure. Not Feyre who looked like a mouse drowning in a sea of fuchsia fabric.  
  
“This won’t do,” she murmured, barely acknowledging that Feyre was even in the room. “I’ll have a talk to Tam, see what we can do.”  
  
Then she was gone, leaving Feyre to look at her disappointing reflection. Hating what she saw and the feel of the dress against her skin Feyre slipped out of it, leaving it in a heap on the floor. Then she grabbed a pair of track pants and a jumper and started downstairs to see what was to be done.  
  
Feyre made for Tamlin’s study, where she could hear a heated discussion going on from behind the closed door. The particulars however were lost between the walls, door, and Feyre’s distance. She put her hands in the front pocket of her jumper, a sinking feeling sneaking into her stomach because Feyre knew she was being talked about.  
  
“My final say is she doesn’t come. You can’t bring her looking like that,” Ianthe said from behind the door. Ianthe must have been right by it because the next moment she had flung it open and was striding through. If she was surprised to see Feyre standing a few metres away she didn’t show it. She just gave what Feyre interpreted as an apologetic smile before putting her phone to her ear. “No. That’s not right. The plates are meant to have green inlay, not gold.”  
  
Then Ianthe was out the front door.  
  
As Feyre continued to the study she wondered why Ianthe had left without any explanation. Maybe she had gone to get Feyre a new dress, a proverbial bandaid to the situation.  
  
“Tamlin?” Feyre asked, entering the study. He was scrolling through something on his phone, brows furrowed. His expression didn’t soften any as he looked up at her.  
  
“Feyre,” He said as he slipped his phone into his pants pocket. “Did Ianthe speak to you?”  
  
“Not since she came downstairs,” Feyre explained, felling so small.  
  
Anger flitted across Tamlin’s face and Feyre felt herself instinctively tense.  
  
“Did she go to get me a new dress? Will she be back to help me get ready? Alis isn’t in until later this morning, her nephew had a presentation at school she wanted to go to. I’ll be a hopeless mess without either of them but I can try if we run out of time…”  
  
“You’re not coming.”  
  
Feyre’s nervous rambling were cut short by Tamlin’s clipped hard words. For a few heartbeats they just looked at each other.  
  
“Why?” Feyre asked, her voice quiet and a bit broken, but on the inside she was angry.  
  
Tamlin ran a hand through his hair, the only indication of his discomfort.  
  
“You should go back to bed, you look tired,” Tamlin said, but then his eyes darted to a wooden box on his desk, likely changing his course of action. “I got this for you. Last week, I’ve just been so busy I forgot about it.”  
  
It was a poor attempt at deflection, but Feyre moved towards the desk and took the box anyway, not breaking eye contact as she opened it blindly. She could feel that angry beast stirring inside her. Whatever the gift was, it wouldn’t tame it. Feyre looked down at what was in her hands. Packed into a plush velvet lining were a set of beautifully crafted paintbrushes.  
  
“Stay home today, rest. Go outside and paint. Do what you like.” Tamlin’s voice was placating, condescending.   
  
Feyre snapped the lid shut and dropped the paint brushes back on the desk. “Why are you so insistent I don’t come today?”  
  
The energy in the room changed, both of their tempers rising.  
  
“I can’t have you there, with all the essential people in the company, when you look,” Tamlin gestured at Feyre, “when you look like that.”  
  
The was a beat of utter silence in Feyre’s head. Then there was a roaring in her ears.  
  
“Excuse me?” Her voice was quiet but lethal.  
  
“Ianthe told me about the dress, you look like you’ve been starving yourself, then there’s,” his eyes flicked down to her forearm where the bruises lay beneath the sleeve of her jumper, but he shook his head instead of saying anything. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week. For appearances sake it will be better if you stay home and rest.”  
  
“Oh, no,” Feyre said yanking up the sleeve, the purple fingerprints on display. “You don’t get to ignore this. Pretend it didn’t happen.”  
  
“It was an accident,” Tamlin said.  
  
“Whatever it was, you did it. You.”  
  
“I say you stay, it’s what I need you to do.” Tamlin’s voice was raised now.  
  
“What you need? What about what I need, Tam? I have given over and over but it’s never enough for you. You want me to sit at home and be the pretty trophy wife. I can’t give you that. That’s not who I am.” Feyre fought with herself to keep her voice steady, holding onto the anger and nothing else.  
  
“You were all too happy to play that part before,” was Tamlin’s a accusatory response.  
  
“I’ve changed. But you’ve been too self obsessed to see that,” Feyre snapped back at him.  
  
“I forbid from being at the event today. Nothing you say will change my mind on it,” Tamlin said.  
  
“You forbid me?” Feyre let all her bitterness and anger flow into her words. “Don’t treat me like a child. You can’t keep me here. I’ll go, let them see what you’ve done to me. I can’t live with you dictating my every move, with you hovering or someone else there for you making sure I follow your every command. I’ve been drowning, drowning ever since we went into that water. Except when they pulled us out it wasn’t water dragging me under. It was you.”  
  
The impact came so suddenly Feyre barely registered what happened. The force of the backhanded slap to her cheek had thrown her into the corner of the desk hard enough that the blow to her stomach left her winded and panting from where she was now crumpled on the floor. Her eyes were stinging from the tears building there, but the shock from what happened kept her silent. Her ears were ringing. Tamlin was crouched in front of her, his mouth moving but she couldn’t work out what he was saying. He raised his hand to her face a Feyre flinched away from the contact.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, Feyre. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”  
  
Feyre just shook her head, the lingering shock still keeping her from saying anything. Tamlin reached for her face again and this time she let him touch her. He inspected her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over where his hand had connected, it was tender enough that even that softest of touches stung. Tamlin pulled Feyre into his lap, Feyre just complied out of instinct and wrapped her arms around his neck.  
  
“I’m sorry, Feyre. I’m so sorry. I’m trying. I’ll try to be better. Give me time, give me time. I’m so sorry.” Tamlin breathed the words onto Feyre’s skin, most likely in the hopes that it would help Feyre to absorb them.   
  
That was when Feyre saw Lucien in the doorway from over Tamlin’s shoulder. She didn’t know how long he had been standing there, how much he had witnessed, but with how pale his face was Feyre knew he had seen enough.  
  
Feyre pushed down everything she was feeling, everything that she felt rushing to the surface, she ignored it. On the outside she was doing what she knew Tamlin would want her to do, pretend that nothing had happened. But on the inside Feyre had had enough.  
  
“You’re right Tamlin. I’ll stay home.” Feyre kissed his cheek before pulling herself from Tamlin’s embrace. It hurt and she was unsteady, but Tamlin was there to help her, making sure she was steady on her feet before he let her go. Feyre made for the door, catching Lucien’s eye, his face was grave. He went to say something but then shut his mouth and shook his head like he thought better of it. Feyre threw a glance over her shoulder. The hard look on Tamlin’s no doubt what had silenced Lucien.  
  
The anger and pain Feyre had swallowed threatened to explode out of her, so she just pushed past Lucien and rushed up the stairs. At the top of the stairs the pain in her stomach heightened and she stumbled. Lucien called out to her but she ignored him and just kept on to her bedroom. Once there she grabbed her phone and hit call once she found Mor’s name. She hissed as the phone hit her cheek and waited for her friend to pick up. Mor didn’t, it went to voicemail. Obviously she was working.  
  
“Hi Mor, remember…,”Feyre panted as all her pain threatened to overwhelm her, “remember when you said if I ever needed you. I need you.”  
  
Feyre hung up and went to her wardrobe and pulled down an old duffel bag. She blindly started grabbing things and shoving them in. It was then she started to cry, first silently, then that turned into heaving sobs. This flared up the pain from where she had hit the desk, so much that she had to lean on the wall for support. The panic and the shock had taken over Feyre’s body, her breathing ragged and the pain blinding. The edges of her vision began to blur and a sudden stabbing pain in her stomach caused her to collapse completely. Darkness had swallowed her before she hit the ground. 

~~~~~  
  
Mor stood outside the gates of Tamlin’s estate, buzzing at the intercom furiously. Feyre had called her an hour ago and no matter how many times Mor had called back there’d been no answer. Just like there was no answer at the gate. A car pulled up behind her and Mor’s stomach dropped as she dreaded at who the occupant might be. Turning around she saw a red sedan that had clearly seen better days. A middle aged woman sat in the front seat and she rolled down her window.  
  
“Can I help you?” She asked.  
  
Mor took a guess at to who this might be, “Alis?”  
  
The woman in the car nodded. “Like I said, can I help you?”  
  
“I’m Mor. Feyre’s friend,”Mor replied.

“Ah yes, she works with you.” Alis’ face had softened a little.  
  
“Yeah. She called me, wanted me to come get her. But I’ve had no answer,” Mor explained.  
  
Confusion and concern filled Alis’ face. “Come on.”  
  
The gate started to open and Mor got back into her car. The space was barely big enough for her car to slip through before Mor went beyond the gate. She parked by the front door, Alis not too far behind her. Mor tried not to show her impatience while Alis unlocked the front door. Once it was open and Alis had walked in Mor was through the door calling to out to Feyre.  
  
“Feyre! Feyre!”  
  
“She might be in her room.” Alis had dropped her handbag on a side table and was heading to the stairs.  
  
Mor once again followed, letting Alis lead the way at a fast pace. She got to a door and knocked.  
  
“Feyre. Feyre, Mor is here.”  
  
There was no answer so Mor took the initiative and turned the knob and burst into the room.  
  
“Feyre are you here?” Mor said. She was near frantic now. She moved towards the bathroom and Alis went to the wardrobe. The bathroom door was open so Mor went straight in, she found it empty.  
  
“She’s here!” There was a definite panic in Alis’ voice and Mor ran to the walk in wardrobe. 

Feyre was crumpled by the wall, unresponsive to Alis as she tried to wake her. Mor was on her knees next to Feyre within a moment.  
  
“Feyre, Feyre wake up,” Mor said breathlessly. “I’m calling an ambulance.”  
  
It was only a few moments but it seemed like a lifetime before the responder picked up.  
  
“Emergency services. What is your emergency?”  
  
“I’ve found my friend, she passed out. I don’t know what happened. I just found her in her home.” It was a conscious effort for Mor to kept her voice slow and clear.  
  
“Okay. What is your address?” The person on the other end of the phone asked.  
  
Mor took the phone from her ear and put it on speaker so Alis could give the address.  
  
“We are sending an ambulance now. Is there anything else the paramedics should know?”  
  
“She’s pregnant.”  
  
Mor’s head snapped up to look at Alis, then back down at Feyre. Mor then noticed the dark red stain seeping through Feyre’s pants.  
  
“Oh, Feyre,” Mor said as she picked up Feyre’s hand and kissed it. Her friend still unresponsive. Mor held onto her after Alis left to open the front gate, still held on as she heard the front door open and Alis direct the paramedics up to the room. She only let go when the paramedics needed the space, but she stayed close. Mor followed the paramedics as they carried Feyre out on a stretcher to the ambulance. As she passed Alis in the doorway Alis grabbed her hand.  
  
“Please. Please, look after her,” Alis pleaded.  
  
Mor could only nod, she was so overcome with emotion. She would, with everything she had she would look after her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did take some dialogue from ACOMAF to draw those parallels for a little more impact. Yeah that’s about it. Writing these big long angsty things is still very new to me


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: mention of domestic violence and pregnancy loss/miscarriage

Rhys burst into the emergency room, looking around frantically for his cousin but Mor saw him first and stood. He went to her and she pulled him into a hug, which he knew she needed. Mor clung to him for a long moment letting out shuddering breaths. When she pulled back she wiped her eyes.  
  
“What happened?” Rhys asked as they both sat down.  
  
“She called me. I was at work so I missed it, then I called Feyre back but she didn’t pick up so I went to her. The house keeper let me in. We found her unconscious on the floor. Rhys,” Mor swallowed hard before she spoke again, “she’s pregnant.”  
  
Rhys felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.  
  
“The other day, at work, she had bruises on her arm, in the shape of fingerprints. That’s why I told you to go. I knew she wouldn’t want you to see them. Today it look like Feyre had been hit in the face. Her cheek was entirely red and there was nothing near her she could have hit it herself on. I told her to call me…”  
  
Mor started to cry again and Rhys put his arm around her, pulling her close to his chest.  
  
“I should have got her out, I should have gone with my gut and get her out earlier,” Mor’s words were muffled against Rhys’ chest.  
  
They sat there in silence while Rhys processed everything Mor had told him. Feyre had passed out, from what exactly, they didn’t know. Tamlin was not only emotionally abusing her but physically as well. And she was pregnant. Rhys couldn’t fully process it all but he knew if he ever saw Tamlin again he might kill him.  
  
“Feyre Archeron?” Rhys’ head snapped up and saw a male doctor holding a clipboard as he looked around the waiting room. Mor shot up from her seat and went over to him, Rhys only a step behind.  
  
“Is Feyre okay?” She asked.

  
“My name is Dr Thesan Altam, I’ve been treating Miss Archeron. She’s stable,” he said. “Unfortunately unless you’re family or on her contact list I can’t tell you anything more.”  
  
“I was,” Mor said. “Morrigan Veritas.”  
  
“I’ve only got,” the doctor flipped up a sheet of paper, “a Tamlin Verne and Lucien Vanserra. You’re not either of those I presume?”  
  
Rhys cursed inwardly at the Tamlin, the bastard, for how much control her exercised over Feyre’s life. But then an idea hit him. He would be a bastard himself if he went through with it.  
  
“Is the baby alright?” Rhys asked. “Please, I’m the father.” Rhys glanced at Mor, who thankfully schooled her features into quiet grief. “It’s a complicated situation.”  
  
The doctor gave a questioning look, figuring out whether he was lying or not.  
  
“Please,” Rhys said again, pouring every piece of false conviction that he could into his voice.  
  
The doctor still looked sceptical, but it was Mor he looked at next. “What I understand from the paramedics you were one of the people to find her.”  
  
Mor nodded.  
  
“If I could I would to like you a few questions.”  
  
Mor nodded again, “I’d like Rhys to come.”  
  
The doctor only nodded and led them to an examination room. He sat at a desk and indicated for them to sit.  
  
“Miss Archeron is yet to regain consciousness, but we found evidence of blunt force trauma on her face and stomach. Without her elaboration we can’t determine exactly what it was. Although we suspect they are from physical violence from another person. The developed bruises on her forearm further my suspicions.”  
  
The doctor gave Rhys an expectant look, like he was waiting for him to give an explanation. Rhys just levelled a look at him that told him whatever he assumed in this moment he was wrong.  
  
So the doctor then looked back to Mor. “Is there anything more you can tell us to help us in this situation? Especially about how she could have possibly got today’s injuries? Our priority is getting Miss Archeron the help and support she needs.”  
  
“Um,” Mor started then cleared her throat. “The other day she came into work and I saw the bruises. She said that, um… her ex-fiancé gave them to her. Feyre said it was accidental. When I got to her house no one else was was there. She was alone.”  
  
Rhys could have kissed Mor in that moment for not blowing his ‘I’m the father of the baby cover’.  
  
The doctor pulled out a pen and and looked back over Feyre’s paperwork. “And the ex-fiancé. Who is that?”  
  
“That’s Tamlin. Tamlin Verne.”  
  
The doctor wrote something down. “Like I said, Miss Archeron is yet to regain consciousness. We will be speaking to her before we allow any visitors. She will most likely need to stay in for observation.”  
  
“Why?” Rhys blurted out.  
  
“Again I’m sorry, but if you’re not an emergency contact I can’t tell you more without Miss Archeron’s express permission. If you’d like to return to the waiting room I can continue to inform you.”  
  
Rhys nodded, he heard Mor mutter a brief thank you and they made their way back to the waiting room.  
  
“This is messed up,” Mor said quietly from beside him.  
  
Rhys was leaning forward on his knees, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from exploding. He cared for Feyre more than he was willing to admit to himself, the blame game he was playing right now from not keeping her safe was spiralling him into something dangerous. He wanted to smash something. Preferably Tamlin’s face into a brick wall.  
  
“It’s not our fault Rhys,” Mor said, as if she could read his thoughts. “It’s a hard truth but everything has been Feyre’s choice.”  
  
“But we knew, we knew who he was and the damage he’s been doing to Feyre for months.”  
  
“How do you think Feyre would have reacted if we went in there and forced her out? She would have resented us for it. And she called me, she was on her way out of there.”  
  
Rhys rubbed his hand over the bottom half of his face. “This is so messed up.”  
  
Mor just patted his back.  
  
~~  
  
Feyre started to come to and she felt groggy. All of her movements we sluggish and slow like she was treading through thick oily water. She tried and failed to open her eyes over and over. She was aware of someone moving about the room, then she heard beeping. Panic gripped her as she realised she didn’t know where she was. She had assumed she was at home in bed. Feyre opened her eyes wide, quickly closing them against the glare of the fluorescent lights above her. There was a buzz as if a button had been pushed then someone spoke.  
  
“Miss, you’re in the hospital. The doctor will be in soon,” a soft, kind voice said.  
  
Feyre was confused. Why was she here? Feyre lifted her hand, following the needle and tubing to the drip beside her. On her finger was a clip and the cord attached led to the monitor that was beeping. Her eyes fell to the bruises on her arm and she dropped it beside her.  
  
Everything came flooding back. The fight, Tamlin striking her, Lucien at the door, collapsing in her room. She remembered, but she felt nothing. Her mind was a dark and empty expanse.  
  
“Hello Miss Archeron, my name is Doctor Thesan Altam. I’ve been treating you since you arrived in the ambulance.”  
  
Feyre turned to her left where the doctor stood in his white coat, clipboard under his arm.  
  
“If you’re up to it, would you mind if I raised your bed so we can have a chat?” Dr Altam asked and Feyre nodded. The doctor picked up the remote and Feyre lay there as the bed was raised, then he sat in the chair beside the bed.  
  
“You were unconscious when the paramedics brought you in, and we found recent trauma to your face and and abdomen. My main concern was your vaginal bleeding. I assume you were aware you were pregnant?”  
  
Feyre nodded.  
  
“I’m sorry to inform you that your pregnancy resulted in miscarriage.”  
  
Feyre heard the words, but they made no impact.  
  
“As it was so early there wasn’t much we could do. It should pass very much like a regular period, you might experience some cramping and discomfort. Take some paracetamol for the pain if you need it. Here at the hospital we can provide you with counselling and other support.”  
  
Again Feyre nodded. Hearing each bit of information, but let it wash away over her.  
  
“Miss Archeron, I need to ask you some questions about your injuries. At any point if you do not feel comfortable discussing this topic with me I can arrange for you to speak to another person you would feel more comfortable with.”  
  
Dr Altam spoke kindly and softly, making Feyre feel like an injured animal, which she guessed she was as she was lying here in the bed.  
  
“Can you tell me how you gained the injuries to your face and abdomen?”  
  
The truth was on the tip of her tongue, but something prevented her from speaking it. Whether it was denial, shame, or the automatic need to defend and protect Tamlin, Feyre didn’t know. Instead she said, “I fell, down the stairs. I fainted.”  
  
Dr Altam’s face didn’t give anything away, whether or not he believed her. “You are safe here, Miss Archeron. Don’t hesitate about telling the truth. Examining your injuries I am concerned that the trauma to your face and abdomen has been caused by physical violence.”  
  
Tamlin’s face flashed before Feyre’s eyes, angry, uncontrolled.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about this,” Feyre whispered, she looked down to her lap. “I fell.”  
  
“I understand,” the doctor said. “You have two people in the waiting room who are waiting for your permission to know how you’re doing and to see you. Morrigan and Rhys.”  
  
At the mention of Rhys’ name Feyre felt ill. Feyre didn’t want him here, knew that it would just inflame Tamlin more.  
  
“Just Mor. Just send Mor in please,” Feyre said quietly. “But in a little while. Not now.”  
  
“Alright. I’ll be back soon to discuss your discharge and such and answer any questions you have.”  
  
With that the doctor left, leaving Feyre alone with her thoughts, which definitely wasn’t something Feyre wanted to do. She didn’t know why she kept defending Tamlin, why she lied to protect him. She was leaving. She had called Mor and she had packed her bag to get our of there. But she had lied the doctor about her injuries so Tamlin wasn’t incriminated for what he had done to her.  
  
Feyre hated herself for it.  
  
~

Rhys was watching to doors where he knew the doctor would appear with news of how Feyre was doing. They had waited and waited. Hours went by and the doctor didn’t reappear. Rhys sat up with his arms crossed while Mor dozed on his shoulder. When the doctor did reappear Rhys sat up so suddenly that Mor almost tumbled to the floor. Rhys steadied her and helped her up and she held to him as they walked over.  
  
“How is she?” Rhys asked.  
  
“She woke up a short time ago and she seems well. What I’m very sorry to say is that when Miss Archeron was brought in she was bleeding heavily and we could not stop it. Her pregnancy has resulted in a miscarriage.”  
  
Mor’s hand squeezed his tightly but Rhys barely registered it.  
  
“Because… because of what happened to her?” Rhys asked.  
  
“It’s hard to say, especially this early. It could have been due to the trauma, but considering her health condition I’d question whether it would have occurred anyway.”  
  
Rhys saw red. All this pain had been caused by Tamlin.  
  
“Can we see her?” Mor asked quietly.  
  
“Miss Archeron has asked for a little longer before she sees anyone,” then Dr Altam looked only at Mor. “And she asked only to see you.”  
  
Rhys tired not to let it sting but Mor only nodded. Dr Altam gave them a small sympathetic smile before he was gone again.  
  
“Let’s get a coffee.” Mor suggested and Rhys followed her blindly.  
  
~  
  
The coffee was terrible and so weak it didn’t do much to keep him awake. They were waiting for word that Mor could see Feyre. Rhys was trying desperately to stay awake, and every so often he was woken up by his head suddenly dropping. It was a familiar frantic voice that had Rhys fully awake.  
  
“I need to see Feyre Archeron.”  
  
It was Tamlin. Rhys stood so fast that Mor almost fell again.  
  
“Rhys what the –,” then she saw him. “Rhys. Don’t.”  
  
Rhys didn’t even register what Mor said, he was moving even before he realised what he was doing.  
  
“She is my fiancé. Tell me what’s going on,” Tamlin demanded.  
  
“I’m sorry, sir, there’s nothing I can tell you,” the receptionist replied.  
  
“Get me the doctor –,” Tamlin growled.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
Tamlin turned to Rhys, anger written all over his face.  
  
“What are you doing here?” He spat at Rhys.  
  
“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Rhys said back just as viciously.  
  
“Feyre is my fiancé.”  
  
Rhys’ body was shaking with restraint. He wanted to tear Tamlin to pieces. It was then Lucien came through the automatic doors and made straight for them.  
  
“We know what you’ve done,” Mor said from beside Rhys. “You should go.”  
  
Surprise, then shame, flashed across Tamlin’s face.  
  
“You don’t know anything,” Tamlin ground out.  
  
“We know enough,” Rhys said back. “We know more than you. You’ve turned a blind eye to her long enough.”  
  
“Rhys,” Mor said quietly, putting a gentle hand on his bicep.  
  
Rhys shook her off. “How could you? Feyre deserved so much more.”  
  
Tamlin aggressively stepped towards Rhys but Mor got in between them, Lucien doing the same half a moment later.  
  
“No. Not here. Don’t be stupid,” Lucien hissed.  
  
He was talking to both of them because Lucien could read both Rhys and Tamlin enough to know their restraint was fraying rapidly. But Rhys glanced around the full waiting room, eyes catching on the young boy near them, a fearful expression on his little face. That threw a bucket of cold water on Rhys’ searing temper.  
  
“Just go Tamlin. She won’t want you here,” Rhys said as he turned away.  
  
“She’ll come back to me. Not to you to you, you dog.”  
  
Rhys turned, his fist going to the collar of Tamlin’s shirt. A tense ripple went through the waiting room.  
  
“I will call security,” the receptionist sniped.  
  
The two men stood frozen, anger bristling of the both of them.  
  
“Feyre was pregnant, you prick,” Rhys whispered harshly in Tamlin’s face and then roughly let go of his collar, pushing him away.  
  
Rhys looked at Tamlin as his words sunk in. Exactly the words he used landing their mark. Rhys saw utter devastation pass over Tamlin like a wave.  
  
“Tam, lets go,” Lucien said, steering his friend by the shoulder. “You’re a bastard Rhysand.”  
  
Lucien was right. He was a bastard. Rhys’ shoulders slumped at the acknowledgement.  
  
“Rhys” Mor whispered but Rhys shrugged off the hand she placed on his shoulder.  
  
“Excuse me, are you here for Feyre Archeron?” A nurse asked from beside them. Mor nodded. “She will see you now.”  
  
~  
  
The beeping and noise of the hospital filled her head as she lay there. Feyre had told the nurse that she would like to see Mor and was just waiting now. Soon she heard rushing footsteps and Mor appeared in her doorway. Under her eyes was red and puffy, telling Feyre she had been crying.  
  
“Hey,” Mor said softly.  
  
Feyre failed to smile, “Hi.”  
  
Mor wiped furiously as more tears fell from her eyes.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Mor choked out but Feyre cut her off.  
  
“Don’t. Please don’t,” Feyre whispered.  
  
Mor nodded and sat in the chair beside her bed. “So, if you would like to you can stay with me. For as long as you need.”  
  
Feyre blinked. “But Mor, your place is so small. We won’t fit in your apartment.”  
  
“Rhys and I were talking and we can stay at his place. He’ll stay at mine. We just want to get you somewhere safe,” Mor said as she reached out to grip Feyre’s hand.  
  
Feyre looked over at her friend. Something coiled in her gut at the thought of staying at Rhys’ place. Because of the terms they were on, why would he offer her this? But did Feyre really have another choice? At least it would be with Mor. She refused to go back to…  
  
Feyre didn’t want to even think about that place.  
  
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Feyre said.  
  
Mor gave her a small sad smile. Then Feyre shuffled over and Mor understood the invitation. Being so careful, Mor climbed into bed beside her. Feyre let Mor drape her arm around her and Feyre rested her head on Mor’s shoulder. Feyre took comfort in her friends’ embrace but is did nothing to halt the void inside her that’s threatening to swallow her whole.


End file.
